


One Shot (Second Chance)

by bictory



Category: B.A.P
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2776022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bictory/pseuds/bictory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Yongguk, there is only one shot at life. However, when his dreams start becoming reality, he begins to believe in second chances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Shot (Second Chance)

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** apathetic attitude towards death, death is discussed a lot, mentions of drugs, underage in sexual situations (no sex)  
>  **A/N:** this was supposed to be a graduation gift for [](http://chiharu.livejournal.com/profile)[**chiharu**](http://chiharu.livejournal.com/)...over a year ago. I'm the worst ;__; idek if you like B.A.P anymore but this is still for you! Also most special of thanks to [](http://haneyon.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://haneyon.livejournal.com/)**haneyon** for whipping this into shape. I love you both and don't deserve you guys ;u; ♥

_It was a weird place that Yongguk met the boy. He couldn’t remember how he got there, but he found himself in the middle of a deserted intersection, sitting cross-legged and holding his beat-up, slightly out-of-tune guitar._

_It didn’t matter, he supposed. He thought it would be disappointing that he didn’t have an audience, but there wasn’t anybody to press him in. It was the first time in a long time he felt free, and_ happy _._

_Closing his eyes, he fingered the chords mindlessly and started rapping. The words didn’t fit perfectly in time but they flowed out of him. The mental barrier he’d been plagued with broke down like a floodgate. The world was still unfair but it was his muse. This was what bliss was._

_He didn’t bother writing anything down. He’d remember anything worth remembering anyways. He didn’t keep track of time either. There was no real beginning or end to any of the fragmented phrases coming from his heart, and the sun was casting long shadows on the ground when he finally stopped._

_The last thing he expected as he started putting his guitar away was applause. It was a slow, steady clap behind him and he turned toward the noise in alarm._

_It was a good thing that Yongguk had put his guitar down, because he might have dropped it if it were still in his hands. Sitting there perched on a curb was a boy—almost not a boy but too green to be a man—with a head of shocking silvery blue hair._

_Upon seeing Yongguk turn towards him, an uneven smile split the boy’s face. He stood up and walked to Yongguk. He didn’t stop clapping until he reached the spot where Yongguk was stuck halfway between sitting and standing. “Hi,” the kid said, with a toss of his shimmery blue head. His smile grew a little wider, making his eyes disappear. “That was amazing.”_

_“Uh.” Yongguk scrambled to his feet. “Thanks,” he said, not knowing what to do with his hands. He ended up running his hand through his own hair. He didn’t realize how tall the kid was, taller than even Yongguk. The boy gestured for him to sit back down, taking a seat first where Yongguk had been before. Yongguk obliged, crossing his legs at a cautious distance away from the boy._

_Whatever efforts at personal space Yongguk took didn’t matter when the boy reached his long arms across Yongguk’s lap and grabbed the guitar, still halfway in the case. He settled a bit closer to Yongguk, his knee barely brushing Yongguk’s thigh, and handed him the guitar. “Can you play it for me?”_

_Yongguk looked at the kid’s face, which was no longer smiling but blinking curiously at him and felt something inside of him give. He looked away quickly. The kid had smooth, pale skin and petite features. For lack of better words, he was_ pretty _. “Sure,” he said, worried he would stumble over his words if he said anything else. He took the guitar and the boy smiled again. Yongguk decided he liked the way it seemed like light shined through the boy whenever he smiled. He could use a little light. “What should I play?”_

_“Anything,” the boy said with a shrug. “What you were playing before was good.”_

_Yongguk wasn’t sure what to expect, but he did as he was told and started strumming his favorite chord progression. The boy started rapping. Yongguk almost stopped in surprise, but he let his hands take over by muscle memory while he listened in amazement. The rap was very different from Yongguk’s, it was fast, fighting against the beat, and in an entirely different register from his own rap. It was raw and unpolished, but Yongguk knew a gem when he saw one. Or heard one._

_Curious, he inserted his own voice into one of the pauses. The kid caught on fast, winding his own quick words around Yongguk’s steady beat. Yongguk closed his eyes. It’s what he did normally when he felt the music take over his sense of self, but this time it was because it was hard to look at the boy’s face. It seemed too personal, too intimate._

_It was too soon when the boy’s rap dropped out and Yongguk’s shortly followed. “My time’s up,” the boy said, getting up and brushing his shorts off. “I’ll see you.” He started to walk away, facing Yongguk the entire time._

_“I don’t even know your name,” Yongguk called out after him, a little late._

_A half-smile ghosted the boy’s lips. “I know yours, Yongguk hyung.”_

 

 

Yongguk blinked blearily and groaned. His head hurt. He’d never dreamed so vividly before. Usually, his dreams were wispy and ephemeral. They slipped through his fingers like grains of sand when he tried to recall them. Once he thought he had a grasp on them he lost them forever, yet for some reason this time he couldn’t get the strange boy’s lopsided smile out of his head.

He dragged himself out of bed, rolling his shoulders and cracking his back as he made his way to the bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water and scrubbed, feeling less gross. He hated oversleeping. It always left him with a dull headache, fuzzy tongue, and the feeling of precious time being wasted.

“That’s why you’ll never get rid of those eye bags,” Youngjae had told him once with a shake of his head, not in disapproval but in resignation.

“I can’t afford to lose those extra hours,” Yongguk had replied. He almost regretted the bite in his words when guilt flashed across Youngjae’s face. Youngjae was a good kid. With the money he earned he could move to a more decent apartment, yet he stayed. Yongguk knew it was because Youngjae was worried, legitimately worried that Yongguk might die because he couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ —take care of himself.

“You can’t afford to lose your _life_.” That momentary falter had disappeared and Youngjae was composed once again. “Do you live to work, or work to live?”

_Do you live to work, or work to live?_

Those words echoed through Yongguk’s mind and he scrubbed his face harder in frustration. He looked up into the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t look different at all, and the corner of his mouth twisted in a wry smile. If only it were that simple.

It would be so much easier if “to live” was the end goal. Yongguk didn’t really care about living. He simply had too big of a burden to hand over to somebody else to give up on life, was all. He juggled as many jobs as he could find and handle and struggled every day to get enough money to pay for a weekly medical bill that wasn’t his own.

He worked as much as he could, taking multiple construction and moving jobs, but sometimes the jobs lined up so he had free days and today was one of them. While he’d rather have guaranteed income, the free time allowed him to things like play guitar in the street. Given his dream, it seemed apt that he had a free day.

Yongguk dried his face and looked again into the mirror, smiling experimentally. It didn’t fit him, he decided, letting his face become stoic again. His mouth was too big. It made him look soft, and worse, _happy_. Lying didn’t fit him at all. He turned from the mirror and went to dig through his closet.

Finding the right outfit took a couple of trial runs, but Yongguk had the formula mostly figured out. He had to look poor, but not desperate. Hungry, but not starved. Worn, but not to rags. The most important part of the ensemble was his dignity. That was what tipped people over to entrust that he wouldn’t squander their hard-earned money. That and a genuine smile, he thought, sighing inwardly as he picked out a fraying plaid button-up and a pair of faded jeans that would’ve come apart at the left knee if not for Youngjae’s preemptive patch-up.

Putting on the clothes, he went to make a quick breakfast. He would have been content with ramyun every day for every meal, but Youngjae said (and he reluctantly agreed) that he would die if that’s all he ate. Youngjae got him to eat relatively healthily by buying too many perishables that would go to waste if Yongguk didn’t help eat them. Yongguk tried to repay him by making enough for both of them, making sure Youngjae would consistently wake up to a meal. It wasn’t nearly enough, but Youngjae made him feel like it was.

After inhaling his scrambled omelet and leaving a ketchup note on Youngjae’s more or less presentable one, Yongguk went to pack up his guitar and leather-bound pocket lyric book. They were old and well-worn, and his guitar wouldn’t even stay in tune, but they were his most precious possessions—not even possessions, _friends_ —and he took care of them better than he took care of himself. He laid the guitar carefully in the case, the velvet lining matted from constant use, and tucked the notebook next to the guitar’s neck.

Pausing for a moment, he also took the wad of cash hidden in his pillowcase. Counting out a few spare bills, he stuffed the rest into his guitar case by the lyric book. Pushing out the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach with a deep breath, he shut his guitar case with a click.

 

 

Yongguk’s favorite place to camp out was quieter, where there was still traffic but people were more willing to stop and listen. Unfortunately, today it was occupied by somebody else who thought the same. It wasn’t that he was particularly attached to the spot, just that it was convenient and Yongguk liked familiarity.

Adjusting the strap of his guitar case higher on his shoulder, he set out to hunt for another spot. He vaguely thought of the intersection from his dream, but he didn’t see any that looked like it before he found another comfortable place. It was just outside a quaint café and across the street from a small studio.

Yongguk carefully unpacked his guitar, leaving the case open in front of him, but not before he moved the wad of cash to his pocket, save for a few smaller bills that he scattered along the bottom of his case. He set the small stool he brought against the brick wall of the café and looked across the street a second before bringing the guitar up to rest on his knee.

He refocused on his guitar. It felt alive in his hands, and he knew it would be a good day. He hadn’t felt this inspiration in too long. It was weird to have thought that it came from a dream, but he wasn’t going to complain. He remembered back to the dreamed up intersection and started strumming his favorite chord progression again. He unlocked the closed off area of his mind where he pushed all the frustration, hopelessness, sadness, and anger and let the feelings out. He rapped.

The four-chord progression that he played over and over was a variation on the most popular chord progression used in music. Although Yongguk prided himself in keeping his work uninfluenced by the mainstream, he was amazed by the way his feelings were pulled around just by a simple progression. He had been obsessed with the beauty of that simplicity for as long as he could remember.

It started out with a minor chord. It was the only minor one of the four, yet it set the tone for the entire song, making it minor. Yongguk was fascinated by its gravitational pull. It was the backbone of the song. The transition from minor to major, from climax to resolution, brought out unbidden emotions in him.

Placing the minor chord first meant that the resolution took longer, which made the song sound sad, but to Yongguk, that was what made it beautiful, what made it _art_. It had power to shake the unshakeable.

As he let the darkness out of himself, he felt the chords push him to a resolution in his own mind. Even though it was just a temporary fix, music never failed him. He felt something heavy lift from his chest.

Yongguk didn’t usually improvise as a performance; it was easier to impress whatever audience he was gathering when he played songs he knew, but today he didn’t care as much. He had a good feeling he would be drawing in just as many people regardless. Being somebody who relied on his head and not his gut, the feeling had to be strong for him to go with it.

His decision was rewarded by the coins and bills dropped into his guitar case. He tried to return each favor with a smile. He hoped he was genuine.

 

 

After a few hours, the money Yongguk had made was not bad at all. He would have stayed longer, but he had a meeting that would be unwise to miss. As he started to unstrap the guitar from his body, he heard it again. A slow, steady clap.

He looked up towards the source of the noise and froze. It was impossible. It couldn’t be, but it was. The other side of the street was a little far away to make out features but that shade of silver-blue was unmistakable.

Seeing Yongguk notice him, the boy started crossing the street towards him. Yongguk looked away, flustered, and hastily swung the guitar strap over his head, but he tripped against his stool and caught himself against the brick wall. He couldn’t stop the guitar from hitting the wall as well and he watched in dismay as the guitar reverberated and the entire back panel fell to the ground in slow motion.

His stomach leaping up to his throat, he knelt down to salvage the pieces. He was so numb from the shock he didn’t notice the sudden presence at his side, helping him pick up what used to be his guitar.

“Only the back panel has to be replaced.”

“Huh?” Yongguk looked up and found himself eye-level with the top of the gray-blue head. The boy was kneeling beside him, examining the splinter of wood he held in his hands.

“The rest of your guitar is intact,” the boy said, tracing the hollow of the guitar where it had separated. He looked up and met Yongguk’s eyes.

Bright, was Yongguk’s first reaction. Too bright to look at. He broke eye contact unable to say anything with his heart still caught in his throat. As a life rule, he did _not_ cry, but staring at the remains of his most precious possession in his hands brought him pretty close to shedding tears in public for the first time in his life.

“I can fix it,” the boy said, having enough sense not to stare at Yongguk as he was on the verge of a breakdown. “It’ll take me some time, but I can fix it and you can use one of Himchan hyung’s guitars in the meantime.”

Yongguk couldn’t look at the boy’s face, so he looked at the boy’s hands instead. They were large and didn’t look too soft and spoiled. They seemed like capable hands, hands he could entrust with his baby. “I wouldn’t be able to pay.”

The boy craned his neck so he could look Yongguk in the eyes. “You were amazing,” he said, making sure to trap Yongguk’s gaze. “I’ll do it for free if you promise to play again.”

Afraid speaking would betray him, Yongguk just nodded.

“By the way, I’m Zelo,” the boy said as he helped Yongguk lay the wooden scraps carefully into the guitar case. “It’s my stage name for when I become famous.” He grinned and Yongguk wondered how he could be so optimistic. “Well, I guess I’m not famous yet so just call me Junhong. What should I call you?”

Yongguk cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn’t break. “Yongguk,” he said without cracking. “I’m Bang Yongguk.”

“Well Yongguk sshi, I work there,” Zelo—or Junhong—said as he pointed to the music studio. “Himchan hyung’s not there right now but would you like to go pick out a temporary replacement guitar?”

Yongguk wanted to, but he shook his head. “I have an appointment to keep.” An appointment he wished he didn’t have to keep, wished he didn’t have in the first place.

“Oh.” Junhong fished around in his pocket and came up with a pen and a bent business card. He scribbled something on the back of the card, handing it to Yongguk. “Let me know when you have time.”

Junhong picked up the guitar case and started to head back to the studio side of the street. The words came out of him unbidden when Junhong was about to go back through the studio doors, and Yongguk called out, “Junhong!” When Junhong turned around, Yongguk gave him a real smile. “Thanks.”

Junhong looked at him with wide eyes, then they crinkled as he returned Yongguk’s smile with his own lopsided one. Yongguk felt a chill up his spine at its familiarity. “You have a nice smile, Yongguk sshi,” Junhong said, and Yongguk thought that he got it backwards. “You should smile more.”

With that, he disappeared inside and Yongguk was left with only the business card in his hand. He looked at it. TS Studio, it said along with a phone number. He turned it around and found another phone number, scrawled in hurried but surprisingly neatly formed letters. He curled his fingers around it and felt warmth radiate from his chest as he walked away.

 

 

Yongguk felt his innards shift uncomfortably as he stared at the paper packet being held towards him. “You said I didn’t have to make any more deliveries if I brought enough money this time,” Yongguk said warily, unwilling to take the proffered packet. “And I brought enough.” He had watched it being counted and pocketed.

“Yeah well, things didn’t work out that way,” the man he only knew as J said, pushing the packet into Yongguk’s hands. “You’ll get a cut of it off your debt as usual,” he said. “You know the prices still, correct?”

“10,000 won per gram and I keep the extra money,” Yongguk replied dully. He weighed the packet in his hand and despaired at how heavy it was. He was holding over a million won in value. “What if I say no?”

“That’s not an option.” What creeped Yongguk out the most about J was the fact that he didn’t show any pleasure or any pain in his job. He remained stoic the entire exchange. Yongguk knew that he wasn’t kidding. “The rendezvous points are inside, dispose of them after you’ve read them.”

Shoving the packet into his pocket, Yongguk walked past the man as if they hadn’t spoken. He hated himself for being unable to refuse, for his helplessness, for bending to the will of somebody else. He also hated that he was too proud to take the easy way out and just become one of them like J did. What he thought was a small victory turned out to be no victory at all, turning his life into a never-ending struggle between what was right and what was necessary.

He ran his fingers along the edges of the business card he had put there. The warmth Junhong’s generosity had left him with earlier had long gone. Looking up toward the smoggy sky, Yongguk wondered if he had any right to involve himself in the life of someone so untainted.

At times like this when the fight inside raged so loudly he wanted to escape from himself, or scream where nobody could hear him. Instead, he just lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Smoking made his trembling hands shake worse, but it helped him clear his mind. He could hear Youngjae tsking and asking him to think about his health, but when it helped keep him sane, he decided he _was_ thinking about his health.

The lines he had drawn so long ago were now getting fuzzier and fuzzier.

 

 

Things were quieter the next week when Yongguk fell back into the routine of working from early morning until late evening, keeping busy enough to push away his misgivings. He even slept more because he didn’t have his guitar to keep him up the few hours he had left after work.

He got to see Youngjae more, and he was thankful that he could tell Youngjae about the delivery job. Youngjae was the only one who knew about his situation and despite Yongguk’s tendency to bear everything by himself, just talking to Youngjae relieved some of the weight on his shoulders.

In the same way that Youngjae understood him, Yongguk also understood Youngjae. Youngjae didn’t have the most conventional job. In Youngjae’s words, he was a high class escort, paid lucrative amounts to spend relatively little time with the most successful of businessmen and politicians. In Yongguk’s words, he was a very expensive prostitute.

When Yongguk first met Youngjae, he couldn’t compute how an insanely smart kid like him was selling his body. When he found out that Youngjae only took clients once a week if at all and still earned more than Yongguk, it started making more sense, that maybe it was because he was an insanely smart kid. It would never make complete sense though, and if Yongguk had a face and perfect proportions like Youngjae’s able to net him hundreds of thousands to millions of won from each client, he still wouldn’t ever go against his morals.

He’d always found it interesting that he valued his life so little yet kept to the rules he had drawn while Youngjae loved life and lived it to the fullest but didn’t see anything wrong with his line of work. The both of them didn’t necessarily agree with each other’s lifestyles but they understood and accepted each other.

And so after Youngjae visited Yongguk in his room to catch up, he curled up at the foot of Yongguk’s bed and started talking about the week’s client. “He was some dumb kid who didn’t know what I was,” Youngae said. Yongguk had heard enough of Youngjae’s client stories and normally his clients would be much older. “When he found out he wanted to buy my time,” Youngjae snorted.

“He could afford it?” Yongguk asked, surprised.

“No,” Youngjae laughed. “I only charged 500,000 because he was attractive.”

“Only,” Yongguk said under his breath. But he knew it was true, Youngjae made twice that on a bad week.

“I also gave him extra time,” Youngjae said, ignoring Yongguk, “but anyways, he didn’t even touch me.”

Yongguk raised his eyebrows. “Does he know what a prostitute is?”

“Yes, but he said that he was interested in more than my body.” Youngjae’s ears started turning red. “And he swore that he wouldn’t do anything unless I asked him to. Without payment.”

“Oh,” Yongguk said. “Wouldn’t that be dating?”

Youngjae nodded and buried his face in the pillow he’d been holding in his lap. “You know my policy on dating,” he said, slightly muffled. Youngjae’s policy on dating was to not, so he could keep servicing his clients. After a few seconds of stillness, he raised his head and looked at Yongguk. “Should I do it?”

“You like him.” Yongguk said that as more of a statement than a question. He’d never seen Youngjae express feelings for anyone.

“He paid 500,000 won to _talk_ to me,” Youngjae said. “I don’t want to end up with an idiot who’d do that.”

“Most people would be flattered.”

Youngjae groaned into the pillow again. “I’ve also never had unpaid sex.”

For the first time in a long while, Yongguk laughed from his heart. He laughed so hard his stomach ached and he had to wipe the tears away from his eyes. “ _That’s_ what you were worried about?”

Youngjae threw the pillow at him. “Enough about me, meet anyone interesting lately?”

In the return to hectic normalcy Yongguk had almost forgotten about Junhong, but now Junhong’s smile flashed across his mind. So did the packets that remained undelivered underneath his mattress.

“Nope.”

 

 

_Yongguk found himself at the intersection again. This time, it was less empty. There was a building on one corner now. When he got closer, he realized it was TS Studio._

_“Yongguk hyung!” The voice came from close behind him. He didn’t know when Junhong had snuck up but all of a sudden he was there at Yongguk’s elbow. “I’m glad you made it.”_

_Turning around, Yongguk wasn’t prepared to see the joy that was radiating from Junhong’s face. His smooth cheeks were bunched up into an excited smile._ Bright _, Yongguk thought again. It was hard to believe that Junhong was smiling just because he was there._

_“Come in,” he said, taking Yongguk by the hand and pulling him through the door. Yongguk thought distinctly that his previous evaluation of Junhong’s hands was dead on. They were cool and dry, his skin supple and smooth, with the lightest traces of callouses where his fingers met his palm. They were by no means laboring hands, but they had seen their share of work. His fingers were as long as Yongguk’s, but completely different shapes. Junhong’s hands were definitely a man’s hands, while Yongguk had always thought his own fingers were too delicate, too feminine._

_Realizing he was ignoring the quick tour Junhong was giving him through the tiny studio, he tore his attention away from their clasped hands and tried to listen. Not before long however, Yongguk got lost within himself again and wondered if it was okay to feel the tendrils of warmth curling out of his chest._

 

 

Yongguk let out a deep sigh as he flipped from his stomach onto his back. He kept his eyes closed as the coolness of Junhong’s grasp was slowly replaced by a numbness that resulted from him sleeping on his hand. He opened and closed his fingers into a fist a couple of times to get circulation back into them.

When the needles and pins faded away, Yongguk brought his hand up over his head and finally opened his eyes to look at it. It had only been a dream, but it had felt so real. Junhong’s soft touch lingered on his hand and he was reluctant to let that feeling fade away.

He rubbed his eyes, slapped his cheeks a couple of times, and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. He groaned inwardly at his subconscious. He had learned long ago not to trust it, but he still felt like it was wrong. Especially if he wished just a little bit that his dream had been real.

Yongguk was about to get up to wash his face when his phone beeped, distracting him. He reached over his bedside table and flipped it open. It was a text from his construction crew, canceling the day’s work.

His last free day had only been a week ago. It was disheartening, losing out on an entire day’s worth of pay. With a twinge he remembered his guitar. He couldn’t hit the streets. It looked like he’d be seeing Junhong again a lot sooner than he had expected.

Yongguk looked down at his hands again. They were sweating. He gulped.

 

 

Yongguk stood in front of the studio, unsure of how to proceed. It was about an hour before the opening time, and he was kicking himself for being so careless. He’d forgotten that he usually started work earlier than most people woke up.

He lit a cigarette and took a slow drag, trying to quell his unsettled stomach. Something told him it wasn’t breakfast.

Before Yongguk could decide whether he should go back home or stand around awkwardly for an hour, he was interrupted by a now-familiar voice. “Yongguk sshi?”

Startled, Yongguk turned and saw Junhong skateboarding down the sidewalk towards him. He quickly stubbed out his cigarette on the concrete walls and slipped it into his pocket to throw away later.

Junhong was in a school uniform, backpack slung over one shoulder, hand on the strap. As he approached Yongguk, he stepped nimbly off the skateboard, catching it with his free hand as he kicked it up with his heel. Yongguk allowed himself to marvel for a moment at Junhong’s lightness of foot before he remembered he had to respond.

“Uh,” he said. Adequate.

“What are you doing here?” He sounded surprised but not unhappy, to Yongguk’s relief. Junhong let his backpack drop to the crook of his elbow. He unzipped the front pocket and started digging around. “It’s so early.”

"I...just had time to come today," Yongguk said, watching as Junhong pulled out a key, dangling on a ribbon. "You're also early."

Turning the key in the lock, Junhong let out a triumphant, "ah," when the door clicked. He pushed the door open and kicked a doorstop underneath it. "I have insomnia," Junhong said, and Yongguk noticed that Junhong was sporting dark eye circles much like his own. "Sometimes when I can't get back to sleep I like to come here early." Junhong tapped the doorstop with his toe to secure it. "It's peaceful."

When Junhong was satisfied, he stepped inside and turned around, looking expectantly towards Yongguk. When Yongguk hesitated, Junhong's hand darted out and caught Yongguk's.

"Come on in," Junhong said, dragging Yongguk into the store. Yongguk's mind turned blank. All he could think of was how Junhong's hand was just as he had remembered, except how could he have memories of things that had never happened? "Um, Yongguk sshi?"

Yongguk looked questioningly at Junhong. When Junhong wiggled his fingers, Yongguk realized he had a death grip on his hand. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said hastily, dropping Junhong's hand. He felt his ears burning up and hoped he didn't look as red as he felt. Junhong just laughed and took his hand again, but this time Yongguk was careful not to squeeze it too hard, or think about it at all really.

"This is our studio," Junhong said, waving his free arm. It was a very modest setup, but Yongguk fell in love with it completely at first sight. In the main room, there was a single desk with a basic sound board, keyboard, and monitor crammed onto it. There were speakers on either side and a pair of headphones coiled on top of the sound board.

To the right was a door hanging ajar, opening to a small practice room that looked bigger than it actually was due to the fully-mirrored wall. Behind the monitor was a big glass window, which looked into the recording room. The recording room was tiny, but somehow they had managed to cram in a baby grand piano and still leave space for a stool and a mic stand.

"That's Himchan's pride and joy cause it's the first big thing we bought," Junhong said from behind him, noticing Yongguk's longing glances at the piano. It did look well-loved, polished like new and probably kept in tune. "The second will probably be a new sound board."

"Do you think I could..." Yongguk pointed towards the piano.

"Yeah," Junhong nodded. He took the key out from his pocket again and unlocked the door to the tiny recording room. Yongguk pulled the bench out from underneath the piano, carefully so that it didn't screech from being dragged along the wooden floor. After he sat on the bench, he adjusted it with a familiarity that Junhong didn't miss. "How long have you played?"

"From when I was five to halfway through high school." Yongguk stroked the keys with his long fingers, stretching his hands but not pressing down on the keys. "I guess until I was about your age," he said, glancing at Junhong's high school uniform.

"You look like you love it," Junhong remarked. He was an alert kid, Yongguk thought, to pick that up from just watching. "Why did you quit?"

Yongguk smiled wistfully as he remembered the reluctance with which he would practice, gritting his teeth and willing the day he was allowed to quit to come faster. It was only when all of it had been taken away that he realized how fortunate he was to be able to play. "Financial problems," Yongguk said, not elaborating further.

"Oh." For the first time, Junhong's light seemed to flicker. His eyes dimmed for a second as he drew back within himself, but just as quickly he was back and Yongguk wondered if he had imagined it. "Play something," Junhong urged him, and the moment slipped out of his mind.

Adjusting the bench one last time, Yongguk planted his left foot as an anchor. His right foot rested on the pedal. His fingers hovered over the keys and he let them go. All the hours of drilling the notes into his muscle memory didn't go to waste. Even though his conscious mind couldn't keep up, the notes came out the way he remembered them.

Once his fingers faltered, however, his mind blanked out completely and he stopped abruptly. He was out of practice, not having touched a piano for the longest time. "Whoa," Junhong said, clapping anyways. "What was that?"

"Chopin," Yongguk said. "I used to hate playing classical, but Chopin was okay."

“Why?”

What Yongguk had never had any patience for was playing a song exactly the way it was written on paper. Chopin was the only thing he ever enjoyed playing because it was open to his interpretation. “It’s the most expressive.”

“I never listened to classical,” Junhong said, a little wistfully. “Rap was all I ever wanted to do, so it’s all I know.”

It struck Yongguk that Junhong not only knew exactly what he wanted, but he also aimed directly for it. It was an enviable trait. “I only did it because my parents would only let me use the piano to freestyle after I practiced,” Yongguk said, wanting to laugh at how stubborn he had been in his will to prove himself to his parents. Yongguk hit a bass chord with his left hand. “I didn’t realize til later, but it taught me a lot about music theory.”

Junhong seemed to sit on that, while Yongguk hit a few more chords. “I don’t think anything you do is ever wasted,” Junhong finally said, so casually that Yongguk wondered if he realized the depth of his words.

Yongguk let the chords fill the silence, and slowly added in his right hand. He wasn’t playing anything he knew, but just let Junhong’s words roll around in his head as he played. What Junhong said applied to music, too. Notes couldn’t come to a climax without a build-up; no notes were ever a waste.

When Yongguk came to a lull in his improvisation, Junhong slid into the space next to him on the bench. “Teach me,” he said, pressing his thigh against Yongguk’s. Yongguk was caught by surprise and it took all he had to concentrate on anything other than how long Junhong’s legs were, or how his thighs were thicker than Yongguk’s, or how his knees were bare but not awkwardly knobbly like Yongguk’s or, worst, how warm Junhong was and how it made him want to scoot even closer.

“Okay,” Yongguk said when he remembered to breathe again. “Let’s start with scales.”

 

 

Junhong was a fast learner, not that it surprised Yongguk at all. He’d already been given the impression that Junhong was a sharp kid from the unending questions and offhand remarks of ingenuity.

He was also a tireless worker. Junhong was still bent over the keys in concentration when the studio door opened, and Yongguk realized the store must be reaching opening time. A man with overly gelled black hair and overly tight pants stood in the doorway, a cup of iced coffee in one hand and half a slice of bread in the other. “What’s going on here?”

“Ah, Himchan hyung,” Junhong said, turning around.

The man called Himchan frowned. “Are you skipping school again?”

“Nope,” Junhong said, glancing at the clock. He was already packing up his backpack and getting up from the piano. “Just lost track of time.”

“Um,” Yongguk cleared his throat. Both Himchan and Junhong looked at him.

“Oh yeah, hyung, this is Yongguk sshi,” Junhong said as he reached for his skateboard. “Yongguk sshi, this is Himchan hyung. He manages this place.” He snatched the bread half from Himchan’s hands. “I’ll be back.”

With that, Yongguk was left alone with Himchan, who had a less than pleased expression on his face.

“He took my bread!” Himchan turned towards Yongguk, as if looking for confirmation. “Did you see that? He took my bread!”

Yongguk figured that laughing at somebody he just met was not the best way to start off, but he couldn’t help it. The bewildered look on Himchan’s face was just too comical and Junhong had been so swift it had taken them both a second to realize what had happened. He might have been able to pass it off as a cough, except he found himself clutching his stomach and doubling over. All Yongguk could do was apologize while Himchan sniffed and gave him a nasty look.

"Junhong's a brat, but he's got good judgment," Himchan said, pursing his lips and looking Yongguk up and down once before turning around, beckoning Yongguk to follow him. "In terms of music, at least," he amended. "I'm not so sure about his judgment of character." He shot Yongguk another withering look.

Somehow though, Himchan's words didn't seem to carry any bite, and it put Yongguk at ease. Still, he didn't want to risk offending Himchan any further and decided that keeping his mouth shut was the best course of action. He tried his best to look chagrined and nodded.

Himchan led him into a small backroom that Yongguk hadn't noticed before. The inside was unfinished, but somebody—he guessed Himchan—had fixed it up into a respectable workshop. Along the wall hung various instruments, each kept dusted and polished. He could see the care with which they had been handled. In the far corner, he realized with a twinge, was his guitar, still in pieces.

He wanted to go inspect it, but before he could ask, Himchan took another guitar off its hanging spot on the wall and handed it to him. He pulled up a stool and pointed for Yongguk to take a seat. "Let's see what you got."

Yongguk shifted on the seat until he was comfortable, the guitar resting on his knee. He picked one of the songs he was most proud of writing.

He wasn't even sure why he was playing, and Himchan's face didn't betray any reaction. When he got to the end, all Himchan did was nod. "Can you show me your freestyle?"

It was a little disconcerting, as if he were called to audition on the spot, but Yongguk, at heart, was a performer. Pulling things from the top of his head was difficult, but he always did the best in front of an audience. When Himchan nodded a second time, Yongguk felt like it was a nod of approval.

"Here's the thing," Himchan said when Yongguk put the guitar down. "You know how Junhong wants to be a rapper, right?" Yongguk nodded, curious. "I manage him, kind of. Him and another kid who sings," Himchan explained. "We've been unsuccessfully searching for a producer for months."

"I see," Yongguk said, his mouth suddenly going dry. He hadn't been this nervous in a while.

"Junhong specifically asked me to hire you on as our producer," Himchan concluded. "The pay won't be too much—I mean, you’d get commissions and on the off chance we make it big you might earn something substantial—but would you be willing to come onboard?"

Yongguk should have thought longer about the consequences. He should have thought twice about becoming too deeply involved with others again, about becoming too deeply involved with Junhong. He should have remembered the baggage he carried and what was still hidden beneath his mattress. But none of that mattered when he had just been offered the opportunity of his dreams.

"Can I start today?"

 

 

Himchan gave Yongguk a quick orientation, briefing him about the equipment, studio usage rules, the kind of music they were aiming for. They decided on a salary, a base hourly rate plus commissions from album sales. It didn't matter to Yongguk what he got. Anything was better than the minimum wage jobs he juggled.

He also got a key to the studio. He strung it on the chain around his neck and gripped it tightly in his hand before he let it drop under his shirt. The metal was cool to the touch, but his chest felt warm beneath it. It allowed him to use the studio like it was his and not like he was an outsider. He didn’t remember the last time he didn’t feel like an outsider.

Yongguk didn't really expect when he asked to start that day that he would actually be working at the sound board and monitor a few hours later, headphones blocking out all noise save for the music he was working on. He listened to the songs that Junhong and their vocalist had recorded. Very faintly, Yongguk recalled the way Junhong had rapped in his dream, how light and quick and flexible it had been, and how good it had sounded weaving around his own voice. He wasn't sure what to think of the fact that Junhong sounded exactly the same in the recordings. Yongguk was also impressed with the singer's voice; Himchan had gotten very lucky with finding the both of them. Or he just had a sharp eye for talent. Or both.

As he finished listening to the last of the demo tapes, Yongguk had to sit back, close his eyes, and take a few deep breaths. It couldn’t be happening. He had always had dreams of producing music that would get recognized worldwide but never hoped to even get the chance to fulfill them.

In his head, it would have been more glamorous, and he’d be working with all the high-end equipment he could only look at in music stores. He’d be highly sought after, turning down offers from the industry’s biggest, making a name for himself. There was a lot he had imagined, but it wasn’t this.

This was better than he could have ever dreamed.

 

 

Since he had gotten the job, Yongguk went straight to the studio every morning. Sometimes Himchan would be there but sometimes he’d be by himself until Junhong came back from school. Junhong would do his schoolwork in the back room and then hang out in the practice room dancing, which he told Yongguk was his other passion. Occasionally he’d sit by Yongguk and watch him work.

“I programmed that, you know, for a school project,” Junhong piped up once as Yongguk clicked around the recording software user interface.

“You did?” Yongguk was impressed, Junhong was a sharp kid, though, so it wasn’t that surprising.

“Well, I kind of tweaked some open source software,” Junhong said, trailing off and not finishing his sentence.

Even so.

 

 

After his first few days at TS, he almost forgot to make his weekly trip to the center where his mother was being taken care of. But when he remembered, Himchan had been the most understanding and scheduled him off on all Fridays.

Yongguk visited the center without fail even though it hurt every time his mother looked at him with her kind, unrecognizing eyes.

"Mom, I'm doing well," he told her as per usual. This time it was less of a lie. "I found a new job, and maybe I can finally support you by myself."

She looked at him curiously, smiled, and patted him on the cheek without a single word.

After staying by his mother’s side a while and paying the week’s bill, he left, his heart heavy.

 

 

Yongguk was having a smoke outside TS when Junhong snuck up on him. Yongguk knew that Junhong knew he smoked, since the odor clung to his clothes, but it just didn’t feel right to let Junhong see him.

“Can I have one, too?” Junhong asked brightly, hanging his long arm around Yongguk’s shoulder, which was exactly why Yongguk didn’t want Junhong to see. He was simply too curious.

“No.”

“Hyung,” Junhong said with a pout.

Before Yongguk could respond, Junhong plucked the cigarette from Yongguk’s hands and put it in his mouth. It only took a second for him to splutter and cough out a puff of smoke.

Yongguk grabbed the cigarette back and put it out. “Smoking’s bad for you.”

“Then why do you do it?” Junhong pouted even more.

“I…” Yongguk couldn’t think of a good answer. It had started as a way to calm him down when he’d had to meet J, but it was becoming a vice. “I’m quitting. Today.” He took out the twelve pack and showed it to Junhong. “You’re witnessing this, alright?” He went back into the studio and dropped the cigarette box into the trash. “Don’t you start now when I quit.”

Junhong gave him a satisfied smile. “Okay.”

 

 

_It was pouring, the rain pounding against the windows of their little studio. Yongguk was sitting in his chair and Junhong was hunched in the seat next to him, a steaming mug in his hands and blanket draped over his shoulders._

_Junhong sneezed._

_“Are you okay?” Yongguk asked._

_“Yeah, just a cold,” Junhong replied, stuffy and miserable. “Got caught in the rain going home.”_

 

 

The sun was shining and no sign of clouds in the sky when Yongguk left the house in the morning, but he grabbed a heavier jacket and an umbrella anyway. It was just a feeling.

 

 

Every day, since Himchan had allowed him to lock up, Yongguk would stay as late as he could. Maybe it was in part to hide from the worries that hung over him, like his debt and the undelivered drugs in his possession, but mostly it was just because he enjoyed the work, and his most productive hours were late at night.

It was yet another one of those late nights. Himchan had left before dinner time and Junhong had just left to catch a train, leaving Yongguk to work in solitary silence.

Yongguk didn’t realize it was storming outside until Junhong came back into the studio, drenched, shaking his hair and laughing with delight.

Alarmed, Yongguk glanced at the clock. A little past midnight. Junhong was supposed to catch the last train home and now that was gone.

“I missed it,” he explained as he tousled the back of his head, flicking drops of water all over the carpet.

 _Careful about the equipment_ , Yongguk was about to say, but the words got caught in his throat when Junhong shivered, crossing his arms over his wet front. His shirt was thin and sticking to him, and the collar hung low from the weight of the water, exposing the pale sharpness of Junhong’s collarbones.

Yongguk shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to Junhong. “Put this on.”

“Thanks, hyung.” Junhong flashed him a quick grin before pulling off the drenched shirt. Yongguk looked down quickly, even though it shouldn’t have been weird.

When Yongguk looked back up, though, Junhong was in his jacket. It sat well on Junhong’s lanky frame where it always hung off Yongguk. “It fits you,” he said.

Junhong laughed, but he also shifted nervously. “Hyung,” he said, and Yongguk knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse whatever Junhong was about to request. “I don’t have anywhere to stay…”

“You can stay over at my place,” came out of Yongguk’s mouth before he thought about the consequences. “I mean, it’s really small but we have a sofa.”

“Can I?” Junhong lit up.

Yongguk nodded. He hadn’t really been doing anything that important and Junhong’s pants were probably cold and unbearably itchy, so he stood up and grabbed his things. “Let’s go get you some dry pants. Do your parents know?”

“I texted them when I missed the train,” Junhong replied with a grin, and he looked way too happy for somebody who was soaked through to the undies.

 

 

Back at his apartment, Yongguk had Junhong sit out on the sofa in the common space while he fetched a clean change of clothes. Junhong had been very curious about Yongguk’s room, but he didn’t put up a fight when Yongguk forbade him to go in there. “Next time,” Yongguk had promised, because his room was “too messy.”

It was only after Junhong showered and changed into the set of clothes Yongguk prepared for him that he raised a concern. “Hyung, I get nightmares in new places…”

The way he said it, eyes downcast, worrying at his lower lip, was exactly how he had gotten Yongguk to offer his couch earlier. It was starting to turn into a very bad pattern.

“…could I sleep with you?”

Yongguk sighed. “Fine, but don’t touch anything.”

He let Junhong into his room, which was too sparse to be messy. He didn’t know why but he was kind of nervous and it made him happy when Junhong said “this place is awesome,” as easily as breathing. It wasn’t like Yongguk was looking for approval, but it was nice.

It was still a mistake though, Yongguk realized later as he lay in bed, sleep not coming because Junhong was clinging to him comfortably, face by his ear and breathing deeply. Yongguk made a mental note to never let Junhong get what he wanted, but it wasn’t very helpful in putting him to sleep.

 

 

“You look awful,” is how Himchan greeted him the next morning.

Yongguk glanced at his reflection in the recording room window. His eyes were bloodshot and his eye bags were worse than normal. “Ah, didn’t sleep.”

“Did it by any chance have to do with the phone call I got from Junhong’s parents?”Himchan asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Phone call?”

“They said I should make sure Junhong doesn’t miss the last train home anymore,” Himchan said. “Which means _you_ should make sure Junhong doesn’t miss the last train home anymore.

Yonguk blinked, taken back by Himchan’s perceptiveness. “Okay,” he said, hoping Himchan wouldn’t press further about Junhong staying the night.

Himchan looked like he was going to, starting but then closing his mouth. “Oh yeah, I inspected the work Junhong did on your guitar and it’s ready to be taken home.”

“Oh really? Thanks,” Yongguk said. He was also grateful for the change of topic.

Himchan hummed and left Yongguk alone. Yongguk sighed. Was he being too obvious?

 

 

Yongguk ended up getting sick, and technically it was Junhong’s fault. If he hadn’t given his jacket to Junhong or been able to sleep a wink, he would probably have been okay. But better him than Junhong, he thought anyway.

Yongguk still went in to the studio despite being sick. It had some perks, like Junhong making him tea and bringing it to him. Every time Junhong brought tea, he’d sit for a while with his own mug and talk.

Sometimes he would ask questions and then Yongguk would talk for a little bit but mostly he would ramble and tell Yongguk about anything and everything. Yongguk soon learned about the scorpion, frog, turtles, and other various things Junhong had tried to raise, his best friend Jongup who didn’t want to do anything but take over his family’s flower shop, the various skateboard tricks Junhong could and couldn’t do, and the circumstances of their vocalist, Daehyun, who sent in recordings because he was too busy juggling part time jobs to come in to the studio.

“He’s talented though so we let him,” Junhong explained.

“Will I ever meet him?” Yongguk would like to meet the owner of the voice he’d been working with.

“Who knows?” Junhong shrugged. A pause as he looked like he remembered something, and then, “but you’ll meet Jongup today!”

“He’s coming here?”

“He’s a dancer too, Himchan wanted him to choreograph for us. His choreo’s really cool, I’m learning from him and maybe soon I can choreo my own stuff.”

Junhong’s eyes sparkled when he talked about dancing, Yongguk realized. “You gotta show me sometime.”

Junhong nodded. “I’m working on something right now, but you can’t see it until it’s _perfect_.”

Yongguk got that way about his work too, so he just gave Junhong a fond smile. “Of course.”

 

 

Jongup was a sweet kid, was Yongguk’s first impression. Himchan adored him and Yongguk trusted in Himchan’s perception of character. After that, he didn’t know what to think. Yongguk considered himself a deep thinker but when Jongup told him “gardens can be pretty or ugly but they will only grow with sun and rain,” Yongguk had no idea what to make of it.

“He’s like that,” Junhong reassured.

Yongguk ended up returning to his producing station and sneaking glances every so often at the pair in the practice room. He ended up staring at them for longer than he’d like to admit; their laughing faces drew him in and he wished he could be as carefree as they were, enjoying something they loved with no restraint.

Seeing Junhong’s excited smile made something squeeze in Yongguk’s heart. He longed to be a part of it but knew he would only taint Junhong and take the smile away.

He thought of his involvement in the gang and pushed away anything he felt for Junhong. If they had any more leverage on him, he would be better off dead. He had to do something about his debt.

 

 

_Yongguk was in excruciating pain, his head pounding and vision black. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. He inhaled and felt something stab his lungs. He switched to quick, shallow breaths and took account of his body. A broken rib or two, multiple hits to his stomach, hurt all over his arms and legs._

_Something squeezed his hand._

_Eyes opening slowly, he took a while to focus. Somebody was holding his hand. He squinted at the face above him. An angel?_

_“You’ll be okay.” No, it was Junhong._

_Yongguk slowly faded out of consciousness, to the comforting feeling of Junhong’s free hand stroking Yongguk’s blood-matted hair._

 

 

Yongguk woke up the day before his meeting with J realizing that he hadn’t made a single delivery. He had debated for the longest time, but he finally decided to turn to Youngjae for help. Youngjae had volunteered multiple times to take out a loan for Yongguk, or cover it with his savings, but Yongguk was stubborn and had refused to accept any help.

It was him who brought it up one morning when Youngjae was up early. "Youngjae, I'm really sorry, is your offer still valid? To help with my debt."

"What do you think?" Youngjae's sharp eyes softened as he smiled.

"I'll pay it all back one day," Yongguk said, looking at his breakfast. He couldn’t hold Youngjae’s gaze; he was too ashamed.

"You don't have to be so strict about it, you're worth more than money to me, you understand?” Youngjae said and when Yongguk stayed quiet, he sighed. “You’ll make it up to me in other ways.”

Yongguk couldn't say anything but thank you.

 

 

Yongguk felt he should have expected the punch when he handed the undistributed paper packets back to J. It caught him off guard and he doubled over, the wind knocked completely out of him.

Before the second punch, Yongguk held out the briefcase he’d put Youngjae’s money in. "I brought the entire amount."

J looked through the case, riffling through each stack of bills until he turned to Yongguk and nodded. Then, he kicked Yongguk in the back of the knees, felling him, and picked up a metal pipe. Yongguk curled desperately in on himself, arms over his head and hands clenched tightly in fists to protect his fingers, his livelihood, as he felt the first swing connect. It was hard enough to make him see stars but it didn’t stop there. As the blows rained down he swallowed and tasted blood.

J grabbed Yongguk’s hair at the scalp and wrenched his head back. "You can never escape," J hissed, so close Yongguk felt the wash of his rancid breath. “You will never truly escape.”

He threw Yongguk back on the ground and left. J's chilling words took a backseat to the pain Yongguk was in. He struggled to stay conscious as he fumbled with his phone. Somehow he managed to dial Youngjae’s number.

He’d be okay if he survived. His head hurt, but his heart felt lighter than ever before. For once, he wanted to stay alive. Owing a legal debt was so much less of a burden than a dirty one.

It wasn’t until he was in the hospital (at Youngjae’s insistence) that he felt a sense of déjà vu, but he’d never been beaten to that point before. He lay on the gurney and stared up at the unnatural glare of fluorescent lights, confused about that nagging feeling until it clicked that he had dreamed it.

 

 

Yongguk should have stayed in the hospital for longer, but he requested to be discharged as soon as he knew he was going to heal. He couldn’t afford the hospital stay and he missed the studio. Idling for too long made him antsy. There were too many ideas in his head to let them simply sit there.

In total he only missed three days, but it was torture having nothing to do besides watching mind-numbing television. He begged a pen and scrap paper from a sympathetic nurse and jotted down tuneless lyrics. It took him a while to process that he had left the gang, and with the realization came a multitude of emotions that he couldn’t sort through, but when he wrote everything down, he found some threads he could pick up on.

When he had something he could work with, he tried to fall asleep to speed his recovery so he could get to his sampling station sooner.

 

 

Yongguk did his best to hide his bandages and bruises with a long sleeved hoodie and sweatpants, but makeup wasn’t enough to hide the ones on his face. Himchan didn’t ask, but Junhong was a curious kid. Naturally, he couldn’t keep it a secret from Junhong for very long.

“You got in a fight?” Junhong was unabashed and made like it was some action scene from a movie.

For that, Yongguk was silently grateful, because it meant Junhong hadn’t been touched by the dark of the world Yongguk had come from.

“For what?” Junhong asked, persistent.

“I was in a bad position,” was as far as Yongguk would go. “And I got out of it. It won’t happen again.”

Junhong obviously wanted to keep pressing but he was decently satisfied with that answer. He kept hovering by Yongguk’s side, though. “Do you need any water? If you need anything let me know.”

Even though Yongguk said he was fine, Junhong still brought him water and snacks and stuck around, watching him arrange his new song from the next seat over.

 _It’s not bad being injured_ , Yongguk thought wryly. He didn’t need any special treatment, but Junhong was really adorable about it, jiggling his legs and fiddling with the edge of his shorts as if he weren’t at ease. “Here, do you want me to show you how this works?” Yongguk said as an attempt to show Junhong his presence was welcome. He pointed at the music production pad.

“Yeah!” Junhong said, nodding enthusiastically. He finally stilled in his seat, watching Yongguk intently as he explained how to work the looping on the sound board, and how to assign new sounds to the buttons.

Music was something Yongguk was used to doing alone, but somehow, it didn’t feel like Junhong was intruding at all.

 

 

_“Hyung, can I show you something?”_

_Those six words, innocuous at first sight, led straight to the problem in Yongguk’s pants._

_Junhong looked at him openly, innocently, at odds with the way his oversized t-shirt slipped down to reveal his pale shoulders. Then he bit down on his lip and his gaze flipped like a switch as he rolled his hips._

_Each movement started out slowly and deliberately, and ended with a snap. Whether Junhong meant it or not, it could only be described as seduction. The worst part was Junhong’s face, smirking confidently and looking down through his hooded eyes. His gaze burned._

_He met Yongguk’s eyes and crinkled his nose, and blood rushed to Yongguk’s face. Not just to his face, he realized with dismay._

Stop, no, this shouldn’t be happening _, Yongguk thought, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in his hands._

 

 

Yongguk's eyes opened with a jolt. He took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Even as his heart slowed down, he couldn't get his mind to stop. He flipped his covers off, grimacing at discomfort between his legs. He felt _ashamed_ , he was 23 years old, not some hormonal teenager, not a 17-year old, not like Junhong. Oh God, _Junhong_. He needed a shower, a very cold one.

As Yongguk let the cool water roll down his neck, his blood stopped pounding in his ears and the fire in his body dissipated. He felt the sweat and dirt clinging to his body wash away, but he wished the water could also somehow wash his mind. The cold tap was distracting, but not distracting enough. Thinking about Junhong’s last lip bite sent shivers down his spine that weren’t from the water.

He felt the heat coming back and with a frustrated yell, he slammed his palms against the wall. Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned his face up towards the showerhead. How could he face Junhong like this? The shame, he could probably deal with. The guilt, he couldn't. Putting Junhong in a compromising position, even in his dreams, felt so, so wrong. It was criminal.

Yongguk knew that Junhong looked up to him. He couldn't possibly take advantage of those feelings, no matter how much he wanted to. His fingers curled up weakly in resignation against the shower tiles. Yongguk had lines he couldn't cross, but a mocking voice in his head kept asking what it’d mean to cross another line when he’d already blurred so many.

 

 

"That's a real interesting beat you've got going on there." Yongguk hadn't realized he was dozing off until Junhong's voice jolted him awake. He glanced at the clock on his monitor. It wasn’t even dinnertime yet. Himchan had probably just left. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Yongguk smiled at Junhong. That was his knee-jerk reaction to Junhong these days, it seemed. He turned his attention onto his work. The track was gibberish where he had clicked, half-asleep. He stopped the looping track and laughed. "Yeah, real interesting."

"I dunno, hyung, I think you could convince Himchan hyung it was artistic," Junhong said with a cheeky grin.

Yongguk scoffed, but he saved a copy of the track anyway before deleting the sleep-composed notes. He swiveled to face Junhong, stretching his cramped arms over his head. "What were you up to?"

"Hyung, can I show you something?” Junhong’s eyes were shining with excitement. They begged Yongguk to ask.

“What is it?” Yongguk asked, obliging.

“I finally finished my choreo.” Junhong grinned and leaned past Yongguk to pull up a song on Yongguk’s desktop.

As he brushed across Yongguk, the neck opening of his too big t-shirt slipped over his shoulder. Something about it was too familiar, and all of a sudden Yongguk remembered that morning.

“Wait,” Yongguk said, before he had really formulated a plan.

Junhong looked back, head tilted. He looked way too excited and Yongguk knew there was no way he was getting out of watching it now.

Yongguk settled with reaching over and tugging the shirt back in place. At least if Junhong’s dance was going be problematic, he would have had forewarning.

Even though Yongguk didn’t dare look straight at Junhong, he was still mesmerized by Junhong’s dancing. In particular, Junhong’s expressions were good. He had stage presence. For the first time, Yongguk saw Zelo, the performer Junhong was striving to be.

Junhong’s movements were as fluid and crisp as Yongguk remembered from his dream, and he moved so naturally it didn’t look like he was concentrating on doing the right moves. Instead, his full attention seemed set on capturing Yongguk, and Yongguk couldn’t do much against a determined Junhong.

Yongguk saw everything again, that clean snap of hips, that magnetic gaze and accompanying smirk, but the sharp pain of chair edge cutting into his palm as he kept a white-knuckled grip on his seat sufficiently distracted him from any embarrassing situations. Still, every time he found his place in his composition, the image of Junhong biting his lip also surfaced in his mind. He didn’t even want to try to work anymore and went home early.

 

 

_Yongguk didn’t dare kiss Junhong very deep or very long. Junhong looked so vulnerable, eyes closed and face open, trusting Yongguk completely. Yongguk wished he wouldn’t._

_His heart was pounding and his fingers trembling as he reached up to hold Junhong’s cheek, and he didn’t know why, it was a_ kiss _. An easy kiss._

_But it was also Junhong. He leaned in and pressed a light kiss on Junhong’s soft, pink lips, and pulled away before he was tempted to push further._

 

 

“Hyung.”

“Mm.”

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Hyuuuuuung.”

“Yes?”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“What?” Yongguk’s pencil stopped scratching as he looked up from his composition. Junhong was spinning in his chair and his knees brushed the edge of the table with every rotation.

Junhong put his feet down to stop. “It’s too nice outside.”

Yongguk glanced out the window. It _was_ pretty nice. But he was also in the middle of his composition. “So?”

“So we should _go_.”

“Go where?” Yongguk asked, attention already slipping back to his notebook.

Huffing a sigh, Junhong jumped up and grabbed the pencil from Yongguk’s hand. “Out. Anywhere.”

Yongguk tried to frown, but one glance at Junhong’s determination and the bright blue sky outside and he forgot how to. Junhong had that effect on him. Also, the perfect idea just jumped into his head. “Have you ever been busking?”

He laughed when Junhong’s petulant pout transformed into raw excitement, his eyes lighting up as bright as the studio windows. “Yeah!”

“We just have to stop by my house for some stuff,” Yongguk said

“Let’s go now!” Junhong said, actually jumping up down from excitement.

As Yongguk packed up his station, he felt a sharp stab of nostalgia as he remembered that’s how he met Junhong. He glanced at Junhong and without even trying, his mouth lifted into a smile.

 

 

Yongguk opened the door to his apartment and immediately regretted the fact he was alive.

The last thing Yongguk expected to greet him was his half-naked roommate on their couch, moaning into the mouth of the also half-naked man straddling him.

Youngjae’s eyes had opened when the door clicked and for a split second, he met Yongguk’s eyes across the muscled bronze back between them.

Youngjae sat bolt upright, the other man thrown ungracefully to the floor. “You’re back early,” Youngjae said.

“What the—Youngjae,” Yongguk choked out, moving his body to cover Junhong’s view of the scene. “I thought we had an _agreement_ about clients!”

Shifting uncomfortably to badly disguise the rise in pants, Youngjae’s face started turning as red as Yongguk’s felt. “He’s not—,” he stuttered, looking meaningfully between the lump on the floor and Yongguk, willing him to understand.

So Youngjae had decided to break his dating rule after all. “That was fast,” Yongguk said, for lack of anything better to say.

“Youngjae-ah,” the man on the floor whined, pulling himself into a sitting position.

Yongguk’s attempts at blocking Junhong didn’t work very well, and Junhong peeked over his shoulder. “Daehyun hyung?”

“ _Daehyun_ hyung?” Yongguk repeated, incredulous.

“Daehyun- _hyung_?” Youngjae asked at the same time.

Grinning shamelessly, the shirtless man sitting on the floor of their living room tossed his head, disheveled hair falling back perfectly in place. “Hey, Junhongie.”

“ _Junhongie_?” Yongguk and Youngjae echoed simultaneously.

“You guys can stop that now,” Daehyun said, wrinkling his nose at Youngjae. “I’m Daehyun.” He waved, remaining on the floor. "Sorry about meeting you like this," he said, glancing down between his legs.

Yongguk felt like he was going to faint and looked everywhere but at the two. He replied with a grunt and a nod and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Should I go?” Daehyun asked, looking reluctantly towards Youngjae.

Yongguk shook his head. He had to get out of there. “I just needed to grab something.” He beckoned to Junhong to follow him.

As Yongguk left the living room, Junhong turned around and bowed quickly. "Nice to meet you, Youngjae sshi," he said brightly before he turned back and scampered away after Yongguk.

 

 

At least Junhong had the sense to wait until after they left to ask about it.

"What were they doing?" Junhong asked, and something lying dormant in Yongguk stirred. "Naked wrestling?"

Yongguk couldn't bring himself to look at Junhong, who was probably asking that with the straightest of faces. "Of some sort," he said. 17 year olds were supposed to know about sex right? Junhong was so innocent. Yongguk despaired at the thought of being the one to put an end to it.

"It looks fun," Junhong said, and the thing inside Yongguk purred. "Will you teach me?"

Swallowing to placate the beast inside, Yongguk took a deep breath before answering. "Not until you're older."

Yongguk wasn't looking at Junhong's face but he could see the pout forming in his head. He knew Junhong didn't like it when Yongguk pulled the age card. "I'll just ask Himchan hyung to teach me then."

"No," Yongguk said a lot more firmly and agitated than he meant to. The monster awoke with a roar that resounded within his rib cage. Stopping, he finally faced Junhong and grabbed his shoulders. He forced himself to calm down and not waver as he looked into Junhong's eyes. "It's something special you do only with somebody you really like, and if they love you back the same."

Junhong broke the gaze by looking down. "So you won't teach me because you don't like me?" He bit his lip and the corners of his mouth turned downwards.

Yongguk sighed and let go of Junhong's shoulders. "No, I like you Junhong." Junhong's eyes remained downcast. "A lot, actually."

"Then why not?" Junhong lifted his head and looked at Yongguk again.

Turning away and starting down the sidewalk again, Yongguk hesitated, choosing his words very carefully. "You don't know what you want yet, there's a lot of time left for you to regret it."

They walked in silence. Yongguk normally felt at ease when they were quiet, but he could hear the gears turning in Junhong's head. Thankfully, Junhong dropped the topic and they found an Insadong street corner to settle in.

Yongguk let Junhong watch him while he rapped to the tune of his guitar. He felt Junhong drinking in everything with his senses, absorbing it quickly like the smart kid he was. Yongguk doubted he had much to teach Junhong, at the rate he learned.

The lyrics Yongguk wrote before joining TS studios were different from the ones he wrote after. They were incredibly personal, especially when he used music as an outlet for the things he couldn't deal with in his head. But it felt right to let Junhong see them, and along with them, his vulnerability.

Junhong listened quietly, looking through Yongguk's lyric notebook. Sometimes in the middle of the songs, Junhong would test out his own voice with Yongguk's, echoing the ones Yongguk wrote in his notebook, or sometimes making up his own lyrics to weave in between Yongguk's more rhythmic rap.

As the sun started going down, the people stopped walking by, and Yongguk stopped performing. Instead of packing up however, he asked Junhong to try writing with him. He wanted to make a new kind of music, a kind of music he could never make by himself.

Sitting back and allowing somebody besides him to make their mark on his notebook should have made him nervous. It should have, but watching Junhong's face contort in concentration was relaxing. It scattered the dark lyrics that always poured out of his soul and replaced them with calm, even hopeful ones. It was like he could finally see the light at the end of the dark tunnel. Junhong was that light.

Junhong was in such a state of concentration that Yongguk didn't expect him to say anything. If Yongguk were looking anywhere but at Junhong's face, he probably wouldn't have caught the words.

"I'd never regret you, Yongguk hyung," Junhong said, so quietly and out of the blue that Yongguk took a few seconds to process it. "Will you teach me?" He looked up from the notebook.

Junhong didn't flinch when Yongguk gave him a probing stare, and Yongguk turned away first. Rubbing his temples and heaving a sigh, Yongguk made up his mind. He'd seen this part in his dream already, and he wondered if it was inevitable. He would feel better believing it was. "Tell me if you don't like it, okay?"

He brought his hands up to cup Junhong's face as Junhong nodded, almost imperceptibly. As Yongguk leaned in, Junhong's wide open eyes fluttered shut, and Yongguk could count the number of those long eyelashes.

Yongguk pressed a dry, gentle kiss on Junhong's soft lips, and pulled away quickly. "I'll teach you," he said, still holding Junhong's face, their noses touching. "Very, very slowly."

Junhong grinned in the way that Yongguk liked best. His eyes squinted into narrow crescents, his cheeks dimpled, and his lips pulled up asymmetrically, revealing the lopsided smile that had pulled Yongguk's heart away. "No naked wrestling?" Junhong asked with a giggle.

"Not for a very, very long time," Yongguk said, letting his hands drop from Junhong's face, his fingers trailing across the silky skin. Before he leaned back, Junhong leaned forward and stole a quick peck.

"Okay," Junhong said, smile never leaving his face. He slipped his hand into Yongguk's, and looked away. "You know, I know what sex is," he said, laughing as Yongguk started sputtering incoherent noises.

"...Brat," Yongguk finally decided on. He was glad for the cover of dusk to hide his face, which was surely turning a bright shade of red. He was sure he was in much more trouble than even he had imagined.

 

 

Apparently, Daehyun had juggled all those part time jobs to woo Youngjae, but that was unnecessary now so he came back to the studio. Youngjae tagged along out of want for things to do.

While Daehyun was in the recording studio, Youngjae sat in Junhong’s chair, watching the recording process. “Wow, this UI sucks,” he commented.

“Well, I’m sorry, I made it under _time constraints_. It does the job, doesn’t it?” Junhong retorted from behind Yongguk’s chair, leaning against his back.

“I’m using it fine,” Yongguk said, but he was ignored.

“I mean, it doesn’t _suck_ , it’s really good for what it is,” Youngjae said, taking back his words hastily. “It’s just a bit confusing and you could reduce a lot of the overhead and make it more practical overall...”

Junhong frowned. “Why don’t you make it then?”

Youngjae looked surprised, then thoughtful. “Sure, why not?”

 

 

“He’s kind of a little too smart for his own good,” Yongguk reassured Junhong later. Junhong had gone quiet and timid around Youngjae. “You’ll get used to him.”

At least, Yongguk hoped he would, because Youngjae was one of his most dependable friends, and he wanted to share everything with Junhong.

 

 

True to his word, Youngjae brought his laptop the very next day and presented them with a new UI. Everybody gathered around Yongguk as he clicked around Youngjae’s creation.

“Hey, even I could do that,” Himchan remarked.

“Much more intuitive, right?” Youngjae said, grinning.

Daehyun wrapped his arms around Youngjae’s waist and rested his chin on Youngjae’s back. “Youngjae’s really great, isn’t he?”

“Too good for you,” Himchan said. “And stop being gross in the studio.”

Daehyun laughed, but he obliged, settling with just a hand on Youngjae’s shoulder.

“This is amazing.” Yongguk turned and looked at Junhong, who had been quiet the entire time. “Youngjae hyung, you did this in one day? Can you teach me?”

There was a stretch of silence, then laughter.

“You’re so cute,” Himchan said, and pinched Junhong’s bewildered face.

“What?” Junhong looked genuinely lost.

It just seemed that he’d forgotten completely about his initial discomfort with Youngjae. It made Yongguk smile. “Nothing, Junhong-ah,” he said, putting his hand on Junhong’s back in a way he hoped was reassuring.

“Yeah, of course I’ll teach you,” Youngjae said, putting them back on track.

The rest of the afternoon, Youngjae and Junhong sat huddled around Youngjae’s laptop as Youngjae explained everything about the software and how he created it.

Daehyun was a bit upset about losing Youngjae’s attention to his singing and he sulked about it, but it warmed Yongguk’s heart to see the glint in Junhong’s eye that he had come to associate with Junhong learning something new. He was proud to see how Junhong was keeping up with Youngjae’s pace, something he himself could never have been able to do.

 

 

With Daehyun visiting Youngjae and Junhong staying over more and more, the small apartment got even smaller, but it also got warmer. It became a common occurrence for the four of them to be sprawled out on the couch and the floor, each working on their own thing but together anyways.

"I told my parents I moved in with you," Junhong said one day, his head on Yongguk's lap and legs hanging off the arm of the couch. "For my commute."

It wasn't like Junhong wasn't already staying over most of the week anyways. "Do they know?"

"About us? No, they don't even know I like guys."

Yongguk didn't say anything.

"I'll tell them eventually," Junhong added on quickly. "They still want to meet you."

"I want to meet them too," Yongguk said. He threaded his fingers through Junhong's hair. He thought Junhong was making too light of a giant he had to face, but he stayed quiet. Yongguk would be there with him to face it.

 

 

_They were on Yongguk’s bed. It was dark in the room, but Junhong’s pretty features were highlighted by the dim silvery light of the moon._

_When Yongguk looked into Junhong’s eyes, there was an intensity there that drew him in, and before he knew what he was doing, he was kissing Junhong. Kissing him quickly and softly, kissing him long and slow._

_Junhong's lips parted and his tongue darted out, probing at Yongguk's mouth. Yongguk let him in. Some part of Yongguk protested, that it was wrong, but the part of him that felt it was so right squashed that fear. Yongguk let his body take over, focusing on drawing the little noises of enjoyment out of Junhong._

_When Junhong let out a sigh that came out in a lower octave than Yongguk had heard from him before, he felt warmth rushing down where it didn't belong. Junhong pressed up against him, letting him know he was hard, too._

_“Junhong, we shouldn’t—” he tried to say, but he was cut off with a groan as Junhong grinded his hips down._

_“What were you saying, hyung?” Junhong whispered, his hot breath sending shocks down Yongguk’s spine. “Would you like help with that?”_

 

 

“No,” Yongguk gasped, sitting up abruptly.

“Hm?” Junhong murmured, still sleeping.

Yongguk froze, but Junhong just buried his face further into his pillow. When Yongguk was sure Junhong wasn’t going to get up he slipped quietly out of bed and brought a change of clothes to the bathroom.

 _No way_ , he thought over and over. _No way in hell_. He turned on the shower and threw off his soiled boxers. As the water washed away all the evidence of his shame, he clenched his fists tightly, pushing down the urge to punch the tiled wall.

It was a bad idea to get involved in the first place. He would only weigh Junhong down with his baggage. The last thing he wanted to do was to take away Junhong’s light.

Yongguk stood under the water for a long time, even though he normally took brief showers to save money. He let the hot spray hit his back until he zoned out and didn’t think of anything anymore.

 

 

Later that night, Yongguk was still maintaining a wary distance from Junhong, taking his dream as a warning. He was on the floor, laptop open to some beat he was working on while Junhong occupied his bed.

"Youngjae hyung wants to start up a software company," Junhong said later at night. He was laying on his stomach, one of Yongguk's old lyric books lying open in front of him.

"What?" Yongguk hadn't even heard of this. He and Youngjae were had always shared everything with each other, but with them both being busy, they had less time to keep up with each other’s lives.

"Yeah, he said he hasn't had a single customer since he and Daehyun hyung got together and basically he needs a more reliable source of income than online gambling." Junhong looked away for a moment, thoughtful. "Not that a start-up's very reliable either."

"So is he doing it?"

"I guess," Junhong said. "He was wondering if anything else you use at the studio could be improved."

"Oh."

"And he offered me a job if I ever decided not to rap, but I told him I would never give up rapping."

That was so Junhong, it made Yongguk smile. "Me neither, Junhong-ah, me neither."

"But," Junhong said as an afterthought, attention already going back to Yongguk's lyric book. "Why does Youngjae need that much money?"

Yongguk stayed quiet for a moment. He hadn't really told anybody else apart from Youngjae—the thought of outsiders judging his family’s problems, their disgust, their pity, made him queasy—but this was Junhong. He didn’t want to keep any secrets. "It's my fault," he said past the sudden lump in his throat.

Junhong sat up, closing the notebook in front of him. It didn’t look like Junhong had caught the break in his voice. The eagerness in his eyes made Yongguk want to shy away. What if Yongguk’s story burdened Junhong? "You know you can't say that without explaining."

"Mm." Yongguk needed some time to get his thoughts together. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say; he just hadn't said the words aloud in too long. "My family was normal growing up until—" he started, hands balling into fists against his lap. His gut churned. He forced himself to continue. "Until my dad started coming home drunk after gambling and taking out his anger on us.

“He drove us into debt, borrowed money from an underground dealer—when he couldn’t pay it back, they wanted to take the house.” He took a shaky breath to try to push back the pressure building behind his eyes. “Dad wouldn’t let them take it. He was crazy by then. Burned it down one night while we were all inside. My brother and sister—"

Yongguk choked. His throat closed and the tears he tried to hold back fell free. He struggled to gain control over his voice as his body racked with sobs. He had to finish. "Mom survived but she's in a mental health facility and doesn't remember me. The guys my dad owed told me I could pay back the debt and my mom’s facility bills if I worked for them…I’m not proud of what I did. Youngjae finally got a loan for me in his name and paid it all&mdash"

Junhong pulled himself up next to Yongguk and gathered him into a hug. Yongguk’s breath hitched. His fingers curled into Junhong’s tee of their own volition, clinging to him like a lifeline.

"Sorry," Yongguk said, his tears melting into Junhong's shirt.

"Don't be." Junhong rubbed warm, soothing circles into Yongguk's back. Despite being young, his arms were strong and sure, his chest warm, and Yongguk felt—safe.

They sat like that until Yongguk's breathing steadied out.

"Let's visit her together next time," Junhong said at last.

"What?"

"That's where you go every week, right?" Junhong asked. "To see your mom?"

"Oh." Yongguk looked at Junhong in wonder. "Yeah, if you want."

Junhong smiled sweetly up at him, and he couldn't help but smile back. It made him happy in a way he couldn't express with words.

“Thanks,” he said, and since that wasn’t enough, kissed Junhong until he had to come up for air.

One kiss melted into another and it was only when Junhong pushed their hips together and Yongguk felt his hardness against his own. It was just like he remembered

“Junhong, we shouldn’t—” he tried to say, but he was cut off with a groan as Junhong grinded his hips down.

“What were you saying, hyung?” Junhong whispered, his hot breath sending shocks down Yongguk’s spine. “Would you like help with that?”

“Junhong,” Yongguk said again, pushing Junhong away, more forcefully than he intended.

“What?” Junhong looked up at him, hurt in his bright eyes.

Yongguk could barely look Junhong in the face. “Not until you’re older, remember?”

Junhong pouted, and Yongguk took his hand.

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” he said, rubbing little circles into Junhong’s palm with his thumbs. “I want to so badly.”

Junhong blinked and Yongguk saw the gears turning behind his eyes. “Fine, but you owe me.”

“What do you want?”

“A date,” he said, resolute.

“Okay, a date,” Yongguk agreed. He clasped their hands together. “Promise.”

Yongguk relaxed a little as Junhong flashed him his favorite smile.

“Oh, you can use the shower if you want,” he added as an afterthought.

Junhong laughed, sitting up in bed. “Hyung, are you going to—you know—here?”

“Just go take your shower,” Yongguk said, chucking a pillow at Junhong. He was grateful for the cover of darkness to hide his warm cheeks.

 

 

_“Predict your luck in your relationship!”_

_Yongguk squinted at the gaudy sign at the fortune telling booth as Junhong stuck his hand in. According to the chart at the side, the luck ranged an entire spectrum from great blessing to medium blessing all the way down to great curse._

_“I’ll take this one,” Junhong said, picking up a red one with black borders. “It reminds me of you,” he explained with a cheeky grin. Clapping his hands over the fortune, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Please be lucky,” he prayed to whoever was listening, touching his hands once to his forehead._

_He unfolded the fortune hastily, searching for the words he wanted to see._ Great curse _, the fortune read. Yongguk could tell that Junhong was crestfallen, but he was trying his best to hide it._

 _“Hey.” Yongguk nudged Junhong with his shoulder. “It’s just a piece of paper, it doesn’t mean anything.” Junhong looked up with sad eyes and a faltering smile._ You’re so easy to read _, Yongguk thought, taking the fortune from Junhong’s hands and tying it to the stand where all the other bad luck was left._

_Junhong forgot to hide his disappointment and pouted. It was times like these that reminded Yongguk that he was still naïve in his 17 years. “It’s the thought that counts.”_

_“Exactly,” Yongguk said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. He took his hand out from his jacket’s pocket, grabbed Junhong’s hand, and returned both to his pocket. Junhong didn’t say anything, but it wasn’t very hard to see his contentment in the way his cheeks tightened in a suppressed smile._

_After he’d seen Junhong off at the subway, Yongguk couldn’t help himself. Maybe he was a bit childish too. Maybe he just wanted some assurance that he was doing the right thing. He went back to the fortune booth._

_He picked a bright one, striped blue and yellow. It reminded him of Junhong. He unfolded it tentatively, not noticing he was holding his breath._ Great blessing _. He pocketed the fortune with a smile. All of a sudden Junhong didn’t seem so childish anymore._

 

 

On the weekend, Yongguk took a break from work and kept his promise. He took Junhong on a date.

They took a train out to Dongdaemun and spent the day wandering around. They tried things on, took pictures of each other and of themselves, and walked hand in hand. There was nothing hanging on his heart to tie it down and it felt like he could float. It was a simple bliss that Yongguk never thought he would’ve been able to have.

On the streets packed with stores, there were also carts selling snacks and trinkets. When Junhong saw one that sold fortunes, he pulled at Yongguk’s hand. “Let’s get fortunes!”

“Do you believe in those?” Yongguk asked, skeptical. He’d always thought those seemed childish and a waste of time.

“Not really, but wouldn’t it be fun still?”

Yongguk couldn’t deny Junhong anything when he was that excited, so he let himself be dragged to the booth.

He didn’t really pay attention to the fortunes. He was too busy watching the amazement on Junhong’s face as he looked through the colorful pieces of folded paper.

“I’ll take this one,” Junhong said, picking up a red one with black borders. “It reminds me of you,” he explained with a cheeky grin. The familiarity of the words and action caused Yongguk to grab Junhong’s wrist without even realizing he was doing it.

“Wait, not that one.” Yongguk wasn’t sure what he was doing or whether it would work or not. He pointed to the blue and yellow-striped one. “I think this one’s lucky.”

Wide-eyed, Junhong immediately took the one Yongguk had pointed out. It was the first time Yongguk had asked anything of him. Yongguk already knew what would be in the fortune, but it still sent chills up his neck when Junhong unrolled the scroll. _Great blessing_.

“Hey.” Yongguk laughed as Junhong beamed at the fortune, cradling it with careful hands. “It’s just a piece of paper, it doesn’t mean anything.” Junhong beamed even larger at Yongguk. There were stars in his eyes. _You’re so easy to read_ , Yongguk thought, patting Junhong’s cheek.

Junhong crinkled his nose at Yongguk and his unhindered joy reminded Yongguk that he was only 17 years old. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Exactly,” Yongguk said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. He took his hand out from his jacket’s pocket, grabbed Junhong’s hand, and returned both to his pocket. Surprised at the sudden contact, Junhong looked down and bit his lip to keep his smile from getting bigger.

“Hyung, you need this more than I do,” Junhong said, transferring the slip between their locked fingers into the depths of Yongguk’s pocket. Warmth spread from the depths of Yongguk’s chest out towards the tips of his toes. It was the first time Yongguk realized just how much Junhong’s happiness meant to him.

After he’d seen Junhong off at the subway, Yongguk couldn’t help himself. He needed to know what the consequences of his actions were. The consequences of meddling with his visions. He went back to the fortune booth.

He chose a fortune at random, avoiding the one that Junhong had picked in his dream. He was afraid of what he would see inside, and his fingers as he unfolded the fortune were trembling.

 _Great curse_. Swallowing down the fear that rose inside him, he tied the fortune to the stand where all the other bad luck was left. That was the deal then; he could change fate, but the balance still had to be maintained.

 

 

_He was late. Yongguk had just woken up, feeling like he had slept deeply for once. He knew before he looked at the time that he had overslept. Dreading to see how late he was, he heaved himself up and reached for his phone._

_He should have left half an hour ago. Knowing Junhong would wait patiently for him, he threw himself out of bed. If he ran, he would be able to make up enough lost time to stay within the range of “reasonably late.” He hastily put on the closest clothes at hand. His hair was still mussed from bed, his eyes were crusty, and his breath was rank, but he grabbed a jacket and flew out the door. In his hurry, he completely forgot his phone. Even though it would have been nice to send a warning text, he thought as he ran down the streets, ¬it wouldn’t matter anyways once he found Junhong._

_He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets as he jogged in place waiting to cross the streets. His fingers brushed against the fortune still in there from last night. He pulled it out. _Great blessing_. It was a reminder of how badly he wanted to see Junhong’s reaction to the fortune that he’d gone back to get. Even though he was running late and didn’t even believe in luck, seeing the words in his hands lifted his heart. Fist curling around the piece of paper, he sprinted across the streets._

_Yongguk stopped impatiently at another red light. He bent over to catch his breath. Hands over knees, he lifted his head and suddenly Junhong was there. Junhong waved enthusiastically, an easy smile appearing on his face at seeing Yongguk. Yongguk couldn’t help but smile back, because he was the cause of that smile._

_He saw Junhong bouncing on his toes, eager to cross over to where Yongguk was. Yongguk also counted down the seconds until the traffic light would turn red._

_Junhong’s foot left the curb the moment the walk sign flashed go, and Yongguk saw it coming too late. A black streak, a screech of tires, and a sickening crunch of metal. A flash of red._

_“Junhong—!” Yongguk’s legs turned into lead and they wouldn’t move as he watched the car slam into Junhong’s body. He looked so, so tiny as his body traced out a perfect arc in slow motion._

_The car kept going, and Junhong’s body thudded to the ground._

_“No, no, no, NO,” Yongguk’s legs threatened to give out underneath him, but he had to get to Junhong’s side, he couldn’t fall. Somehow, he didn’t know how, he ended up in the middle of the road, cradling Junhong’s head in his lap, blood in his fingers as he touched Junhong’s hair, blood everywhere. Why was there so much blood?_

_He closed his eyes and wept, and when he opened them, the blood had turned into rain and he was in front of a grave. Across his lap lay a newspaper, soggy and fragile._

__

Choi Junhong  
Nov. 15, 1997 – May 18, 2013  


He stared at the engraving, and then at the newspapers in his hands that had replaced Junhong’s body.

He barely registered the words he could make out through his tears and the rain-soaked ink.

Drug Ring Leader Apprehended over Hit and Run _, was the biggest headline. Yongguk tossed the newspaper aside and reached out to hold the headstone instead._

 __One more chance, just give me one more chance _, he prayed, eyes squeezed shut, tears blending into the rain that dripped off his nose and the ends of his hair._

 __One more chance _, he pleaded, until everything blacked out._

 

 

Yongguk woke up with sweaty palms and a chill that didn’t come from the outside. He had never been so alert in his life. Everything came rushing back, the dreams—the memories, the real ones and the ones that used to be real. And the one that he was reliving now. It was today. He threw himself out of bed, hastily pulled on a shirt and a pair of jeans from off floor. He didn’t bother checking his phone.

 _He was late_.

His hair was still mussed from bed, his eyes were crusty, and his breath was rank, but he grabbed a jacket and flew out the door. He knew his destination. It was the place that had been haunting him in his sleep.

He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets as he jogged in place waiting to cross the streets. His fingers brushed against the fortune still in there from last night. He pulled it out. _Great blessing_. He needed all the luck he could get. Fist curling around the piece of paper, he sprinted across the streets.

As he approached the intersection where he had first met Junhong in his dreams, he saw Junhong approaching from the opposite direction. Exactly as he’d seen before.

Yongguk slowed to a jog and stopped at the red light as cars whizzed past, bending over to catch his breath. Exactly as he’d done before.

He lifted his head and caught Junhong’s eye. Junhong waved enthusiastically, an easy smile appearing on his face at seeing Yongguk. _He was the cause of that smile_.

Everything was as before, but Yongguk was going to make sure to stop it now. _I can change fate, I’ve done it once_. He knew the consequences. Diverting destiny wasn’t free, otherwise it would have been too easy.

Yongguk was not afraid. Somehow knowing that his life was the price for Junhong’s made the decision easy. This was his purpose, this was his second chance. There was no trace of regret in his mind. No regret about being unable to fulfill his dreams of making his music famous before his time on earth was up. Somewhere along the way, he supposed, his dreams had changed.

Standing there, at the intersection, facing his little ray of light, Yongguk smiled. There was something satisfying about smiling in the face of death. Above them, the stoplight turned yellow. He didn’t have much time left, and what he wanted Junhong to remember was his smile—a genuine one that caused by Junhong himself. He didn’t even have to try; all Yongguk had to do was let Junhong’s radiance refract through his own broken cracks.

He saw Junhong bouncing on his toes, eager to cross over to where Yongguk was. And Yongguk thought maybe if he hadn’t smiled, Junhong would have waited that crucial fraction of a second to look to his left. _No regrets_ , he kept reminding himself. Maybe if he’d had the courage to shout a warning, maybe if he hadn’t shown up today, maybe if he’d pushed his feelings away and given up on Junhong when he still could, things would have turned out differently…but it was too late for maybes. The walk sign flashed on.

Yongguk leapt towards the spot he had replayed so many times in his mind. He could tell he was still smiling as he pushed Junhong away and everything went black. It didn’t hurt at all.

 _You were my new dream_.

 

 

 _later_.

Two years from the day Yongguk saved Junhong’s life saw a very different Junhong from the one Yongguk had known. Junhong hadn’t end up going to college. He almost hadn’t graduate high school, either, but had clung on out of respect to his family, who had only supported him when he’d finally told them about his relationship with Yongguk.

Before he’d even graduated, he’d gotten a job at Youngjae’s recommendation at a software company doing uncreative but well-paying work. He still wrote down bits and pieces of lyrics he thought Yongguk would’ve liked, but otherwise he had all but given up on his dreams of becoming a rapper. Junhong wondered if Yongguk would be disappointed in him. _He probably would be disappointed_ , Junhong thought, but he needed the money and Yongguk was the first person to know how desperate somebody could get over money.

After his day at work, Junhong stopped by Jongup’s flower shop. He was greeted by a large bouquet of sunflowers, and the gesture once again caused tears to fill Junhong’s eyes without warning. Jongup had remembered the previous year as well.

“They’re on the house,” Jongup said from behind the counter. He’d kept bringing sunflowers to Yongguk’s room where Junhong still lived so that Junhong could see the sun even though he was cooped up inside working all the time. The soft smile on his face wasn’t sad, but sympathizing. “You’ve been working so hard.”

Junhong nodded, knowing that if he said anything he wouldn’t be able to contain the tears. Wordlessly giving his friend a hug, he left for the hospital.

Yongguk wasn’t dead. Technically, he was still alive, but he had been in a coma ever since the accident two years ago. The doctors weren’t sure if he would have survived the cracked skull, broken ribs, shoulder, arm, hip, leg, and severe internal bleeding. Even if he did wake up, there was no guarantee he would be fully functional, in body or in mind.

Yongguk was such a nobody the authorities didn’t even bother searching for the person who hit him. He had no immediate relatives that could push the investigation. He didn’t have anybody that could take care of him and no health insurance, nobody but Junhong. Junhong took responsibility for the costs in full, even the costs of Yongguk’s mother’s care.

Starting that day, the debt he shouldered grew larger and larger, and as days turned into months turned into years, most of his friends and family didn’t understand why he held on. It didn’t bother Junhong too much. He’d said once that he’d never regret Yongguk and so he didn’t.

The others at the studio were one of the few that understood. They had helped, even the littlest thing like Jongup’s sunflowers made the burden Junhong carried lighter. Youngjae had pulled the strings to get him his job, Daehyun always made sure he had something in his belly, and Himchan had sold the beautiful baby grand he had been so proud of buying (“No point in keeping it if there’s nobody to play it,” he’d said gruffly, but Junhong had heard the waver in his voice).

The nurse checking Junhong in at the front desk recognized him; everybody did. He was there every day without fail, no matter how short his visit. He would hold Yongguk’s hand and tell him about work, because work was all he did besides eat and sleep. He would sweep Yongguk’s uncut hair off his face and check for bedsores. He would massage Yongguk’s arms and legs and try to swallow the lump that inevitably clumped in his throat at how thin they had become. He hadn’t thought it possible for Yongguk to get even thinner.

Today was special. Junhong placed the sunflowers in the vase by Yongguk’s bed, even though they barely fit. He pulled up the chair and took his customary place beside Yongguk. Sometimes he would accidentally fall asleep sitting there, but today, falling asleep with their fingers entwined was intentional.

In his sleep, Junhong felt gentle fingers combing through his hair, and the tears he had held back the entire day rolled down his cheeks. He felt them being wiped away and let out a content sigh. At least he could still see Yongguk in his dreams.

 

 

Junhong woke up the next morning quite similarly to how he did every other time he slept at the hospital—with an aching back and neck from hunching over Yongguk’s bed. His height made it worse. He was still holding onto Yongguk’s hand. He looked at Yongguk’s sleeping face, bathed in the morning sun. The soft illumination made him look at peace. Junhong always marveled at how different Yongguk looked like this—he never looked that peaceful when he’d been awake. “Are you having sweet dreams?”

Reluctantly, he let go of Yongguk’s hand and stood up. After adjusting the blankets under Yongguk’s chin and planting a kiss on his forehead, he stretched up and cracked his back. Glancing back one last time, he turned around to leave.

“…ng.”

He froze midstep. It was quiet and Junhong could almost have imagined it, but the deep timbre was unmistakable.

“Jun…hong.”

Junhong turned around slowly, unreasonably afraid of what he would see.

His heart felt like it suddenly kicked off the starting block of a race and his stomach started churning. Yongguk’s eyes were still closed, but there was a hint of a frown between his eyebrows. His hand twitched slightly against the covers.

“Junhong.” This time it came out as a sigh. Yongguk’s voice broke Junhong out of his daze.

“Yongguk,” he breathed back, rushing back to the bedside and grabbing a hold of Yongguk’s hand as it opened up towards him. “I’m here.”

“Am I…alive?” Every word was laborious.

Junhong nodded, his chin from trembling as his tears overflowed again.

Yongguk had opened his eyes to a squint, and they took in Junhong’s face. Junhong wondered if he looked a lot older. He certainly felt older. “How…long?”

“Two years,” Junhong whispered, his tears dripping onto the covers. He squeezed Yongguk’s hand and felt something alight in his heart when he felt a squeeze back.

“You…waited?” Yongguk’s eyes closed again, but he kept his frail hold on Junhong’s hand. Junhong nodded even though Yongguk couldn’t see. “For…me?”

Junhong knew he was not a pretty crier. When his heart was into it, his sobs were ugly and wretched, and now he felt those kinds of sobs threatening to come out every time he opened his mouth, so kept his lips tightly pursed. “Mm.”

He hadn’t thought Yongguk capable of crying, but the inner corners of Yongguk’s closed eyes glistened, and when the droplet rolled down Yongguk’s face, Junhong didn’t care anymore. He let himself sob his heart out, his wails attracting the attention of a passing nurse. He tried to explain to the nurse that Yongguk had awakened, but he couldn’t form the words. She looked at the screen monitoring Yongguk’s vitals, and her eyes widened as realization dawned upon her. “I’ll get a doctor,” she said, “but you might have to leave when they come in.”

Junhong just nodded gratefully and gave Yongguk’s hand one last squeeze and bent down so his lips brushed Yongguk’s ear. “I’ll be back.”

Yongguk turned his head so that they were face to face. “They were…about you.” His words were soft, almost imperceptible, but they didn’t have to go very far to reach Junhong. “My sweet dreams.”

And there Junhong was, laughing and crying in the most confused state of emotions, needing to leave but rooted at the spot. He wanted to stay with Yongguk so he could kiss those lips he was deprived of until they were swollen. He wanted to squeeze into Yongguk’s tiny hospital bed and talk about inconsequential things in hushed murmurs until Yongguk fell asleep in his arms, face nuzzled in his neck. He wanted all of Yongguk.

The sigh that escaped from Yongguk’s lips told him that Yongguk wanted the same. But Junhong had already waited for so long. If it meant Yongguk would come back to him, he could wait for just a bit longer.

 

 

 _even later_.

“Junhong, Jongup-ah, come lend a hand!” Himchan yelled from outside. “The movers messed up the feng shui of my studio!”

Glancing up from his composition, Junhong saw Himchan in the practice room, standing by the freshly unloaded baby grand piano. He looked in the recording studio, where Daehyun and Youngjae were messing around, singing at the top of their lungs, but completely soundproofed. They were probably too occupied to help.

“Go ahead,” Yongguk said at his side. Junhong turned to face him. Yongguk was still too thin, thinner than when they had first met, but he was recovering and his complexion was finally starting to look healthy.

“Junhong!” Himchan shouted again.

“Alright alright,” Junhong called back. He got up, shook out his legs, and went to join Jongup in moving the piano back. As he left, he turned around to catch Yongguk’s eye, grinning, and Yongguk smiled back.

It was an easy, wide grin, and it was Junhong’s favorite thing in the entire world. Every day they were getting a little more back on track, but it was exactly where Junhong wanted to be, like he was living in a dream.  



End file.
